


more interested in dragons

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Gen, bonus bi Bill in a flashback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie's always been more interested in dragons than girls. Or boys, for that matter. And at twenty-nine, he finally decides to tell his mother. He doesn't have high hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more interested in dragons

**Author's Note:**

> This is tumblr user raggedybearcat's fault. Also, I am pointedly ignoring that the flashback takes place in the '80s. Everyone is happy with their queerness and not tormented about a lack of visibility/terminology, ok.
> 
> Also, content warning for ace erasure, bi erasure, and generally Bad Reactions To Coming Out.

Charlie isn’t as nervous as he expected to be. He is _coming out_. To his mother. Even though it is important to him, he knows that ultimately, if it really goes tits up, he doesn’t have to live with the consequences. He lives in Romania now and he doesn’t even come back for every Christmas.   
  
The question is, he supposes, why it’s important to him at all.  
  
He had told his dad earlier — they’d gone for lunch at the Leaky, a crowded enough pub that no one bothered to eavesdrop, but not so crowded he had to shout. Arthur Weasley had looked puzzled, and after Charlie’s explanation he…well, he still looked puzzled, but he smiled and said he was glad Charlie had it all figured out. Charlie hadn’t been worried about his dad — after all, Bill had come out to him as bi, and he’d taken that completely in stride.  
  
His mother hadn’t, though. Bill had told Charlie first, so he knew what Bill went downstairs to do that summer day just before fifth year. Charlie had made sure all the other kids were very much occupied by something-or-other so they wouldn’t interrupt, and then he had sat at the top of the stairs and strained to hear the words coming from the kitchen. At first all he could hear were murmurs from Bill, but then he very clearly made out his mum’s loud, alarmed tone. He would be ashamed to admit later that he fled to his room, only returning to the stairs when he heard Bill reach the landing.  
  
It hadn’t gone well, Bill filled him in later. Well, he was still alive, which was definitely something, but she had been angry until Bill had pointed out that he was bi, not gay, so her wailing about a lack of grandchildren was actually not called for. Also, she had _so many_  children that even if he were, it still wouldn’t be called for. She latched onto his first point and calmed down after that.   
  
“So she’s okay with it?” Charlie had asked, offering Bill a chocolate frog.  
  
“No,” he’d said, unwrapping the frog and biting off the head. “She’s just pretending I’m not a big fat queer at all. As long as I’m bi I can still marry a nice girl and have babies, after all.”  
  
To Charlie’s knowledge, Bill never broached the subject with his parents again. He certainly hadn’t invited his boyfriend over for Christmas, even though his mum had specifically said “if you have a girlfriend, invite her down”. The fact that he is now, as Charlie walks up the garden path to the Burrow, happily married with a baby, means that his mum might have forgotten the incident completely, now that she never has to face it again.   
  
Charlie considers turning around and apparating back to London where a Portkey to Romania would be waiting for him. He doesn’t need to tell her. She’ll keep sending letters dripping with guilt asking whether he’d met a nice girl yet, but he’d dealt with them for this long, why couldn’t he deal with them forever?  
  
He puts his hand in his pocket and runs his thumb over the tiny quartz dragon Bill gave him for Christmas. He can do this. The truth is important, and he doesn’t want to lie by omission anymore.  
  
He isn’t as nervous as he expected to be, but he’s pretty bloody nervous.  
  
His mother looks just like he remembers as she opens the door and bundles him into a hug. She complains that he’s not eating enough before turning away to put the kettle on, muttering about how far away he lives now. (He has lived in Romania for over a decade, but this is standard practice — no matter how long he stays overseas, she refuses to get used to it.)  
  
He stays silent until she sets a mug of tea in front of him and sits down next to him at the table. “So what brings you back home?” she asks, already sipping the tea as if it weren’t still scalding hot. “Have you decided to finally get a job here? I’m sure there are ways you can work with dragons and still be within apparating distance, you know.”  
  
“No,” he says, staring into his tea before taking a deep breath and fumbling in his pocket for the dragon again. He could do this. “I wanted to talk to you, actually, and then I’m probably going to go back. Well, I’ll pop in to see Bill and then go back.” Her face falls, but she doesn’t say anything, so he has to keep talking. “I, um, I wanted to tell you I’m ace. Asexual, I mean. I— it’s where you don’t want to have sex with anyone, you know, and I, uh, don’t.”  
  
This had been far more articulate in his head.  
  
“Charlie, if you’d just give those girls I keep suggesting a chance — I’m sure I can even find one in Romania, if you like. You haven’t met the right girl, that’s all. Your father was like that, he tells me. Wasn’t really interested in getting a girlfriend until I got up the guts to ask him out and, well, you know how that turned out.”  
  
“No, Mum,” Charlie says, the edges of the dragon cutting into his palm. “It’s not like that. I really honestly do not want to have sex with _anyone_ , and that won’t change no matter how many girls you suggest. I did give some of them a chance, you know — most of them are perfectly pleasant people, and I’m still in contact with Gloriana. She got engaged a few months ago. Look, Mum, this isn’t — this isn’t up for discussion. I just wanted to tell you so you could stop bloody well trying to set me up on dates and asking whether I’m bringing a girlfriend home for Christmas.”  
  
“You’re just young, dear.”  
  
“No. Mum, I’m twenty-nine. I’m going to go now, alright? Thanks for the tea.” He hasn’t drunk any of it, but that doesn’t matter. He stands, wondering what possessed him to do this in the first place (it was a bloody stupid idea, he should have just left it alone), but Molly stands too.  
  
“Charlie, wait. Sit back down. If you’re really sure, I suppose — I suppose you know yourself best. Does this mean you won’t be giving me grandchildren?”  
  
“I most definitely will not,” Charlie says, but he doesn’t sit back down.  
  
“Suppose that’s what all my other kids are for, then,” Molly says, smiling, and she hugs him again. It’s difficult to stay angry at her while she’s hugging him, and Charlie slowly leans into the hug, his mind racing. “I know I did wrong by Bill,” she says, but she’s still holding him tight and Charlie can’t even begin to guess what’s on her face. “I’m glad he’s married and has that darling little girl, of course, but if…if he had decided to live with another man, I would have been alright with it. I just want all of you to be happy, and…and to me that means being married and having children.” She finally lets go, and he disentangles himself from her arms to look at her face. Tears are welling in her eyes, and there’s a lump in his throat he doesn’t know what to do with.  
  
“I’m happy, Mum,” he says, swallowing to try to make that lump go away. “I’m happy, and so’s Bill. You know me, all I need are my dragons. I’m more than happy just getting to work with them, you know?”  
  
“I know. Now, sit back down and tell me all about Gloriana’s engagement. I haven’t even heard of it.”  
  
So he does.


End file.
